


Prequelle

by Noir_Dix



Series: Prequelle [1]
Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Back-story, Cardi before Cardi is Cardi, F/M, Noir_Dix au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-28 12:57:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20778941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noir_Dix/pseuds/Noir_Dix
Summary: This is just a cute little back-story.It's right after Basil "saves" Dix...No smut, but the potential is there.Basil's slightly backwards & shy.(This was a *very* long time ago.)





	Prequelle

They hadn't gotten terribly far from the gate, when he managed to spy an abandoned well. After testing the water, he set her down, close by.

He held a brimming handful to her lips, hoping. Her eyes fluttered open, & after but a moment, she began lapping greedily at the water.

"Sì, sì... It is good, yes?

She nodded.

He was beginning to wonder if she could talk. He took another chance.

"How long were you- ah- out there?"

She cleared her throat.

"Three days."

He blinked. She had rather a deep voice for a girl. He had no idea what he'd been expecting, but...

He kind of liked it.

He scooped up another handful of water.

"What did they think, that you were Jesus?" he chuckled a bit, at his wit.

She looked stricken.

"Perhaps." she began, after sipping again from his hand. "They left me there to die."

It seemed to hit her all at once. He watched, vaguely horrified, as she began to cry.

"No, no..." he flung the water from his hand, not quite sure what to do. "It will get better, you will see-"

He grasped her shoulders, & she shook her head, inconsolable.

"I'm _filthy_." she spluttered.

He realized she was being quite literal.

"You were trapped in the stocks, for three days."

She shook her head again, & had begun rocking back & forth.

He sighed, & pulled her into his arms. He rubbed her back, as she sobbed into his shoulder cape.

"Shh, shh..." he pressed a kiss to her temple, still unsure of himself. "I will make it better. You will see."

He wondered... He didn't even know her name.

He concentrated, & then, he was in her head. It was a riot, with 500 different things, all going at once.

"What are you doing?" she asked, suspicious.

_Ah, shit._

"Nothing." he looked at her, all creepy innocence. "Just... thinking."

She didn't believe him.

"What is your name?" she asked.

He rubbed her shoulders. She didn't seem to mind the small liberties he was taking.

"Basil Confessore Imperator."

She blinked. Rather an impressive name for such an odd little man.

He was blushing a little.

"Like the herb?" she asked. She couldn't help herself.

"Kind of."

His ears were turning red.

"I like it." she smiled.

(She would later discover that "Basil" denoted royalty, among other things.)

"Do you have a name?"

"Other than witch? That _devil's whore_ bit really made my day."

He looked suddenly mischievous.

"You have no idea."

What did _that_ mean?

"I go by Dix."

"Is that French?" he asked, genuinely curious.

She shrugged.

"It's short for Dixie. Dixie Abbey Leigh."

"Is the Abbey short for something?"

She shook her head.

"No. She was my great-grandmother."

"Ah."

They sat companionably. The moon was full, & caught eerily on his pale eye.

"Do you think you can ride some more?" he asked, as if there were some other option.

She nodded.

"Where are we going?"

He looked somewhere past her.

"There's a ruined old homestead-"

"I know it. It's near by our house."

"Our house?"

"Oh." she looked down. "My father built the place. My mother & I stayed, after he died... And then, there was just me."

"You are alone?"

She hitched a shoulder.

"The townspeople came to me for remedies, & the parson visited quite often."

His eyes narrowed.

"He was concerned about your soul?"

"I'm afraid not."

_If looks could kill._ She'd heard the phrase, but had never seen it in action, to this extent.

"Perhaps I should call on him."

He watered the horse a bit, & they got back on their way.

They stopped again, even though they were close to their destination, upon passing a small field overtaken with blackberry vines. She gathered a large handful, & he held the horse. It had been doing remarkably better.

"You know, I was a great friend to your ancestors." he was telling the horse, as she approached.

"What did you do?" she asked, nibbling a berry.

He jumped a tiny bit.

"Oh, a little of everything."

"Blackberry?"

He shook his head.

"They're rather plump."

"I don't... eat."

She tilted her head. He looked like he wanted to.

"At all?"

"I'm not supposed to."

"Will it harm you?"

He considered.

"No."

"Will it make you ill?"

"No."

She selected a somewhat large berry, & popped it into his mouth.

He closed his eyes, & actually _savored_ the thing.

"I could share some more."

He smiled slightly, before locking eyes with her.

She refused to let him intimidate her. She pressed her thumb to slightly drag down his very full lower lip. He managed to catch & gently nip at her fingertip with the third berry.

She was bewitched, feeding blackberries to some kind of stranger in the moonlight.

"Are you a papist?" she asked, attempting to break his spell.

"No." he chuckled, helping her onto the horse, yet again.

"Why do you wear vestments?"

"It is a very long story." he started leading the horse, staying on foot. The animal seemed to appreciate the break from his added weight. "Tell me, can you read?"

She pushed a bit of hair behind an ear.

"I can. I can also write, a little."

"Bene, bene... I love my girls to be able to read."

She blinked.

What did _that_ mean?

"And, earlier... You were upset over being called a witch?"

"It wasn't exactly complimentary."

He paused to look up at her.

"You were surrounded by idiots. I might call you such, but, I am terribly fond of witches."

"All right." she laughed softly.

They finally arrived at the abandoned homestead. There was a pale, thin young man waiting outside. He strode over to meet them.

"What's all this?" he asked. He had rather a deep voice. He began absentmindedly stroking the horse's head.

"I found a little lost kitten." her companion said, helping her down.

"A blonde one." the other man observed.

"Sì. Do you have any food?"

"I suppose I'm expected to share?"

He hitched a shoulder.

"She's been hanging in a pillory for three days. She's starved."

The thin man's eyes went wide.

"Ooh, _witch_."

She flinched, in spite of herself.

He sighed.

"Dix, this stunning example of charm & sophistication is Mary Goore. Mary, this is Dixie Leigh."

The man called Mary actually took her hand, to kiss it.

"She's very pretty." he said.

She focused on his eyes, they were a pale green.

"Are the two of you related?"

They both laughed. She frowned. Their eyes were very similar.

"Mary is somewhat of an expert on witchcraft. He's been tried, himself."

She noticed the deliberate change of subject.

**Author's Note:**

> I conjured a Ghost/Sisters of Mercy hybrid.
> 
> Tell me what y'all think.  
Seriously.


End file.
